


Clarity and Compass

by BabyChocoboAlchemist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Fear, Heartbreak, Ignis Squad 2017, M/M, Mental self-harm, Prompto Protection Squad 2017, Scout Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyChocoboAlchemist/pseuds/BabyChocoboAlchemist
Summary: COMPLETE! In the thick of the world’s chaos, Prompto surrenders to the helplessness that comes with great love. Nothing makes sense as he reaches for the only person that has ever mesmerized him, soothed him, made him believe in something much greater than himself.Prompto believes his feelings will never be returned. Why would they be? He’s stupid, after all. Completely and utterly worthless. But the one that’s captured his heart does the unthinkable, surprising him in their own pocket of the universe.





	1. The Distance Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the years between](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692060) by [greyskiesblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskiesblack/pseuds/greyskiesblack). 



> It is with the greatest joy I thank you for being here.
> 
> This was inspired by Zella Day’s ‘Compass’, which I discovered today through a Promptis video. Funny, watching a video for another Prompto ship and being inspired to write Promnis, but what can you do? The art of writing is a strange, bewitching art  
> indeed. 
> 
> This was also inspired by ‘the years between’, a breathtakingly beautiful Promnis fic written by greyskiesblack. A million kudos to the artist behind a masterpiece that moved me to tears.

Prompto didn’t think he’d make it through the night. After all-

Sleeping was impossible with Ignis in the next room.

Sure, he managed to dodge Ignis offering him the bed. The master chef offered him chance after chance to take a luxurious ride into Dreamsville. But swapping places wouldn’t have done any good. Sharing the bed would’ve had Prompto signing his one-way ticket to Heart Attack Ville. Speaking of heart attacks-

Gods, how long could a human last under pressure so immense, it was like the Six had gathered to crush the insides of his chest? How many more times would he have to be crushed between Titan’s fists? Were they playing some kind of joke on him? He knew he wasn’t anything special, but to have his torment drawn out seemed a little too much. 

Noctis definitely wasn’t any help. He set Prompto up for a night of pain, even though he knew Ignis had brought him dangerously close to a heart attack a billion times. The evening started off innocently enough: the little group, Prompto’s sanctuary, decided to settle down for the night in Lestallum’s inn. With the Innkeeper telling them rooms for four were sold out, they instantly split into pairs. It was more like Noctis splitting the group into pairs, with him calling dibs on Gladio. The prince’s little brother begged, pleaded with them to change directions, pleaded with the Astrals to give him some room to breathe, but none of them were having it. Off Noctis went, apparently oblivious to the cries of his crestfallen brother, arm in arm with his partner-in-crime. 

So-

Prompto ended up in the battle of a lifetime.

Life had been one vortex of crazy, with their destinies throwing their lives out of orbit and the galaxy being flipped on its head. It was as if the Astrals wanted to remodel the world and the lives of its mortals, bored with the peace that had become a precious commodity. A certain photographer, determined to capture the moments that were afire with tranquility, felt detached from those he loved with passion that could break mountains. As the pages of their tale unfolded, he couldn’t help but feel left behind by every written note, by every letter of every turn taken. Which was where-

Ignis came in.

Ignis. Gods damn it, Ignis. The one responsible for keeping his head afloat, when all else threatened to tie boulders to his ankles.  


The reason he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. Or any other night.

Ignis. Ignis had been nothing less than wonderful towards him as of late, as though the Astrals had blessed Prompto with their infinite grace. While his temper flared beautifully and elegantly against the other two, Ignis was nothing short of warm towards the team’s gunslinger. Courteous-no, chivalrous. Kind. Patient. Stupid enough to compare him to a sunrise and ask him to help with dinner. Kind enough to make him feel as though he always had something important to say. And it was that kindness, that patience, that warmth-

That kept Prompto awake.

It was ridiculous, surrendering to the helplessness that came with falling in love, considering the world was falling apart at the seams, but Prompto couldn’t help it. He wasn’t the smartest apple of the bunch, after all. Truth be told, he was actually pretty stupid. But if it was going to happen, if he was going to long for, want, need the warmth of someone so unbearably kind, he was going to let it happen. There was no reason to keep it from happening, what with the world slipping under its covers. Forfeiting its claim to chaos for the night, letting its people breathe and dream. So it was under that patience, that serenity, Prompto somehow fell asleep. Sleeping wouldn’t be so bad anyways. After all, Ignis didn’t have the power to send him into cardiac arrest. 

The whole world wouldn’t be able to touch him, as the minutes of the night painted the canvas of life. Nothing would-

-shock him more than finding Ignis at his side, sleeping in a chair.

He didn’t know what compelled him to open his eyes. Perhaps it was a familiar rush of warmth, security, gentleness. An electrifying sense of safety that suddenly flooded him, as though the floodgates had been thrust open. Confusion followed suit. How could it not when Prompto had given him the bed? When Ignis had tucked himself away for the night, resting in a world of luxury? Why was he-

Time to find out. Trying to suppress nerves so strong, so nauseating, they were volcanic, the gunner scampered out of bed. 

Taking great care not to frighten the personification of beauty, of infinite grace, Prompto gingerly took Ignis’ glasses off and set them aside. He gently shook Noctis’ advisor into an awakening, inwardly pleading with his stomach to calm down because how could he possibly allow himself to be sick, oh so violently sick, when something was evidently wrong? 

“Iggy? Iggy, you okay?”

Small sounds popped out of the chef’s mouth. Prompto had succeeded; Ignis was returning to the world of mortals, no longer in the company of those that moved the stars and shook the earth. Their eyes met, the photographer’s eyes filled with panic and longing, his eyes filled with astonishment and concern. “Is everything all right?” Noctis’ lifelong mentor asked, his voice as soft as the threads of time, eyes piercing Prompto with tenderness so electrifying, it was amazing the gunner’s stomach hadn’t fallen onto the floor. “Y-y-yeah,” the team’s chocobo stammered, cheeks as red as roses, head bowed.

“Um, I was just…you know. Um, you were in there, and now you’re in here, so…I was wondering if you were okay.”

Ignis’ voice was a ribbon of velvet moonlight. “I’m quite well, thank you,” he assured the other, his voice so soft, so gentle, it was as though speaking any louder would disrupt the fabric of the galaxy. “It’s just that I was concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yes, concerned. I was afraid loneliness would strike you if I remained in the other room.”

Prompto was struck by something, and it wasn’t loneliness. It struck him with the force of a brick. Two bricks followed that one.  


And all three of them smashed him in the face.

Ignis continued as though he were explaining a battle technique. “I bore no desire to leave you alone. After all, I know you’re accustomed to falling asleep with the three of us near. With that bit of knowledge close to heart, leaving you alone would’ve been unforgivable. Barbaric, even.”

It was happening again. Adrenaline flooded his veins, twisted and turned him, distorted the world so badly everything became a blur. Prompto was surprised to still be on his feet. The earth beneath him was crumbling, ebbing away, withering away like a moth against flame. His insides were falling apart, cinders floating on the breeze of time, sent into time’s embrace by the one looking straight into his eyes. Unaware of the effect he was having on his friend, Ignis went on, still speaking as though he were explaining a formula for victory. 

“A thousand apologies for disturbing you, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. I am delighted we’re meeting the night together, by the way, because I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

Prompto felt as though his voice was not his own. His body was not his own. And the air flowing through his lungs felt strange, chilling, frightening. “Thank me? For what?”

“For the kindness you bestowed upon me earlier. You’re always incredibly kind towards me, but I would like to reflect on one incident of particularly high interest. This afternoon, you invited me to confide in you. To seek your counsel in times of distress. I never feel anything less than free around you, Prompto, but that was an invitation of the greatest generosity. For that, I thank you.”

Time, words, heartbeat and emotion. All of it was slipping through his fingers, evading him, terrifying him with unimaginable force. The earth beneath him became air as eyes bore into his soul, infinitely warm and kind, giving him patience and security he did not deserve. He became one with the moon, light and air as words filled him, healed him, poured rain into his eyes. 

Remaining oblivious to the astronomical effects of his own presence, the master of culinary arts continued.

“I’ve been wondering-how can you be so kind when you’ve endured challenge after challenge? Granted, I know nothing about the ordeals you’ve been through, but I have the feeling you’ve endured wound after wound. Yet here you are, with us, blessing us with kindness so great it rivals the Six’s grace. How is it done, Prompto? Is your kindness something that can be explained, or is it a miracle I am forever doomed to be astonished by?”

Silence encased their pocket of the galaxy in a patient embrace. His point of origin, the one that lit up the night, was all Prompto knew, felt, wanted. And it was in that silence he felt himself thrust into a sky so blindingly bright, he couldn’t keep the rain from falling. His gentle sniffs broke the fabric of rebirth, alarming Ignis. “What, tears again?” the bladesman asked, referring to how rain had fallen after he (oh so casually) compared Prompto to a sunrise.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Eyes burning, Prompto reeled away from him. Staggered against something commonly known as a dresser, which he slammed a hand onto to support himself. Not knowing what else to do, say, think, he spoke words he never would’ve thought to utter under normal circumstances. 

“Iggy…you’re weirdin’ me out, man.”

It was happening again, the adrenaline, the nauseating, meteoric adrenaline. Panic. Hope. Excitement. Everything flooding him like waters rushing out of a broken dam. Ignis was all there was and it hurt, hurt being so close, hurt being so far apart, hurt just to breathe. “I don’t know what to think,” the photographer panted, tears painting the world beneath him, chest engorged with Ifrit’s flame. That confession was not only directed at Ignis, but at himself.

“You’re givin’ me mixed signals, here.”

Ignis didn’t find that at all flattering. Not much of a surprise; the master of all things culinary never enjoyed having his character taken into question. “Mixed? How so?” he asked, as though Prompto had insulted his latest recipe. “I only say what I mean.”

“That’s just it,” Prompto instantly shot back, Ifrit’s flame growing as the seconds unfolded. In mere moments, he’d become a wasteland engulfed by fire. “You say things like they’re no big deal, but…they are a big deal. They’re a really big deal to me.”

Eyes swelling with tears, the photographer summoned up the courage to return Ignis’ gaze. “I…I’m…I’m nothing special. I’m nothing, really. And I never thought I’d end up here, with Noct and you guys. You’ve all been amazing, so amazing, and…I couldn’t be happier. But at the same time…I don’t…I don’t think I deserve any of this. I definitely don’t deserve anything you’ve been throwin’ at me. You’ve been…Ignis, you don’t get it but…I think you’ve been absolutely amazing to me. I just…I just don’t think I deserve any of it. So maybe, just maybe…”

He should stop. Stop. Just stop. Stop talking, stop thinking, stop wishing, stop smiling. Stop loving, wanting, needing, reaching. 

Just stop.

Stop.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean t’ get all weepy on ya. I sound pretty stupid anyway, right?”

It couldn’t be done any more. The distance between them couldn’t stay so small. They couldn’t keep breathing in the air of the same pocket of time reserved for them, only for them, under an infinite field of dreams. 

No longer able to stay still, willing every thread of his being to move, Prompto took Ignis’ hand. Eyes burning, nothing making sense, nothing working, the Astrals laughing at him for being so stupid, so selfish, asking him why he was even bothering to glance at Ignis while the world was falling apart. 

“C’mon, back to bed. Gotta get some sleep, right?”

Ignis’ voice was sharp enough to demand attention from Ramuh. 

“No. Not until I bring an end to your nonsense.”

Prompto kept on smiling. Smiled even though it would’ve stop raining. Smiled even though it wouldn’t stop hurting. Smiled because it wouldn’t stop hurting.

“Stop bein’ such a princess, Iggy. We’ve only got a few more hours before the sun hits. So why-”

It was at that moment Ignis grabbed his wrist, squeezed it, and gave him a look that commanded the heavens to stop the flow of time.


	2. Spring and Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis confronts Prompto’s insecurities head-on. Prompto takes a step towards confronting his fear, dangerously close to the one he knows he shouldn’t long for. 
> 
> A confession is on the edge of his lips. Will it be spoken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the last part of this project, but then I stumbled upon a beast littering the comment section of ‘the years between’. The anger that fueled my responses was channeled into Ignis during the brainstorming session, and from there, this project grew into something of infinite possibilities. And while Ignis throws out compliments like candy, the story wouldn’t have felt right ending here.
> 
> Thank you for being here. It means more than you’ll ever know to me.

Prompto didn’t have to be looking at Ignis to know the look on his face. 

Sure, his head was bowed, but the energy pummeling at his fortress of resistance was powerful enough to breathe life into an entire kingdom. The last time anyone can even remotely close to wreaking such damage was Gladio, when he muttered to Noctis about preferring Cup Noodles to anything Ignis had to dish up. Of course that resulted in both of them getting nothing but rice for dinner-and no, there weren’t any trimmings. Prompto was the only one treated to the master chef’s know-how that night, because ‘out of you entire lot, the chocobo’s the only one I can tolerate’. But Prompto was behind the wheel that night, transcending the damage Gladio had done by a thousand miles. 

The air between them was heavier than the moon. Cold and frightening, the distance between them seemed to grow smaller with every passing second. The seconds of silence were centuries, pitiless pockets of time determined to crush every drop of life out of a certain photographer’s soul. Shivering, just wanting everything to end, to stop, to give him some air, he wished he had never spoken. Wished he had gotten up to check on Ignis. Wished Noctis hadn’t left him alone with him. Wished Ignis had never said those things, wished he had never said anything at all.

Wished he had never been a part of Ignis’ life in the first place. Wished Noctis had never found him.

A billion eons passed before Prompto somehow found the strength to speak. It was strange, moving his lips only to hear the voice of another come forth, but speak he did. And every word, every breath, was hoarse. Frail. Crackling like the dull embers of so many campfires. 

“You can let me go now, Iggy.”

“As I’ve said before, I’ll do no such thing,” came the voice made of thunder, of things Prompto longed for, needed more than the air flowing through his lungs. The photographer’s head remained bowed as the other spoke. If he looked into Ignis’ eyes for a second, just for a second, too many things would’ve happened at once. First, the bladesman’s eyes would’ve cut through him like a knife cutting through butter. Melted butter. Second-

It would’ve been over. There would’ve been tears, fear, so much fear, pain, questions. Begging. Asking why, why are you here, why do you care so much, why can’t you just leave me alone? 

I’m in love with you, Ignis. I know I shouldn’t be but I am. 

Ignis went on as though another one of his recipes had been called into question, voice as harsh as steel and colder than Shiva’s breath. “You are not going anywhere,” Noctis’ advisor declared, letting him know that if Prompto even thought of taking another step, all Hell would break loose-and it would be the kind of Hell Ifrit would bow in fear of. 

“I don’t know what chaos has poisoned that imagination of yours, but expecting me to tolerate it is complete lunacy. What madness compels you to speak in such a manner?”

Biting his bottom lip, Prompto kept his head bowed, trembling, wanting to rip himself away from Ignis so badly, he’d gladly take the chef’s arm off in the process. Foul, yes, but it was just becoming too much, too much to take, too much to handle. And all of it was impossible to accept. “Dunno what you’re talking about,” he muttered, smiling, smiling through the tears, the pain, so much pain. If only everything would stop. Just stop. Stop and let him sleep. Stop and erase everything. Erase him from the lives of those he loved enough to tear down the sky for.

Erase him from Ignis’ life.

“It makes perfect sense to me. I mean, I was alone before Noct found me and led me to you guys, and…it was what I deserved. Yeah, it hurt-“

Hurt more than words could ever express. Just as it hurt to have Ignis holding him by the wrist.

Gods damn it.

“-and I’m happy you guys are my friends, but…that doesn’t make any of this right. Everything’s wrong, all wrong.”

Maybe all he had to do was ask. Just ask. Ask Ignis to hold him. Ask him to just wrap his arms around him, for a few minutes. Even for a few seconds. Just a few seconds. Ignis wouldn’t hate him over a few seconds, right? No harm in a few seconds. Maybe then everything would stop. Maybe then it would all go away. Maybe-

“Not like you’d understand.”

Anyone else, Noctis included, would’ve stepped back upon realizing how angry Ignis had become. If anyone else had been in Prompto’s place, that would’ve been it, end of story. But-

There was no turning back.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Easy,” the photographer chuckled, chest aching, everything hurting, bleeding. “You’ve always been incredible. Incredibly smart, incredibly beautiful, and you’re connected to the kingdom. To Noct. You’re my bro’s babysitter. Me? I started off as a loser, and I’m still a loser, to this damn day. Lost a few pounds, sure, but nothing else has changed.”

If Ignis could’ve transformed his anger into flame, all of Eos would’ve become cinders in seconds. Tightening his grip on Prompto’s wrist, he rose to his feet, eyes surely ablaze.

“Now see here! By the Six, Prompto, you’re sending me to an early grave!”

Prompto’s voice was still, as quiet as the kiss of daybreak. 

“Let me go, Ignis.”

“Bloody hell,” the master chef snarled, eyes flashing with the flame of murderous moons. “Noct and Gladio drive me mad on a regular basis, but what you’re doing is inexcusable!”

Screaming. Everything inside of him was screaming, bleeding, too loud, much too loud. His eardrums would soon burst. The fibers holding his chest together would soon fall onto the floor.

“I said let me go, Ignis!”

“Not on your life! You spew off the most devilish garbage, insult me and expect me to accept it? Does our friendship mean nothing to you, Prompto?!”

Prompto looked. Made the mistake of looking into Ignis’ fiery, infinite, piercing eyes.

“What are you talking about?! It means EVERYTHING to me!”

“Then don’t you EVER write me off as a bloody fool that cares nothing for you! Do you hear me?!”

It happened. The greatest crime anyone could ever commit was committed, and it was on the hands of Ignis Scientia.

Noctis let it be known that particular crime wasn’t allowed under ANY circumstances. Gladiolus let it be known that crime wasn’t ever allowed, and the command was as follows: ‘never, ever, make the chocobo cry’. Gladio topped it off with an affectionate ‘anyone that makes the bird cry will get it’. It was written in the manual dubbed ‘How to take good care of Prompto the Chocobo’. 

The last person anyone would’ve expected to break that rule had broken it.

Not a lot of situations could frazzle the swordsman, but upsetting Prompto sat at the top of that very short list. Alarmed by the rain rolling down his friend’s cheeks, and by the small sobs popping out of the photographer’s lips, Ignis wasted not a second in rushing to his side. Apologies flew swiftly, tenderly, each one soft and kind.

“Sorry, sorry, so sorry. Didn’t mean to wreak such havoc. It’s just that you’re not making any sense.”

It happened. The arms. Gods damn it, the arms. 

The arms he should’ve pushed off. 

Shouldn’t have melted into. Shouldn’t have wanted to push off. “Where did all of that come from?” the winds of Spring’s morning murmured, after giving another apology. And it was at that moment the world between them became smaller, the hands grinding Prompto’s chest into ashes grew stronger, bigger.

“Next Gladio will be telling us he hates Cup Noodles.”

“Don’t count on it,” Prompto chuckled, shaking his head not only to solidify the words spoken, but to shake off his tears. Unfortunately, the second half of his plan failed. 

“Don’t think that’ll ever happen. Not in a billion years. So you’re safe.”

“Not really,” the kiss of Autumn’s evening replied, hands caressing the other’s forehead, completely oblivious to the sensations rippling through the sun’s body. 

“How can I possibly be safe when the light of my life is ignorant of his worth?”

Close, too close. Too warm. Everything much too small, too tight. Air between them much too heavy, too frightening. 

Too close. Close enough to melt into. To disappear into. To break him and everything that made him.

Prompto made the same mistake again, heart racing, everything still hurting, nothing willing to stop.

“Ignis, I…I think I-“  
\-----------------------------------

“Look, buddy, I think it’s about time you stop playing shadow puppets. I’d like to get some sleep before the end of the century.”

A grinning Gladiolus turned to his partner-in-crime, then gave him an affectionate pat on the back. It was more like a slap rough enough to rattle the stars, but Iris’ brother didn’t know the difference. “Maybe if you’d stop being such a party-pooper you’d realize what a catch I am,” the gladiator purred, rustling the prince’s blankets.

“Creative and sexy. Can’t beat that.”

“Bite me,” commanded the bundle underneath the covers.

“Besides, this was all your idea, Highness. You wanted the kid to have his space, so we let him have his space. How do you think he’s doin’, by the way? Still think the bird will cough it up to our Princess?”

“Yeah,” Noctis snapped defensively, rising from the blankets to challenge the Royal Shield. “You gotta give ‘im a little more credit, Gladio. Prompto may be cute and cuddly, but when the time’s right, he’ll strike. I know. He’s my little brother.”

“Just as you’re my Nocty-poo.”

“Call me that again and you’ll die a slow, agonizing death, sweet pea,” the prince purred with a smile. Gladio turned away, setting up the stage for his second act.

“Yeah, well, I still bet Princess Specs will say it before Prom does.”

Noctis mused over that for a moment, and spoke with a voice made of sunlight. “You may be right. After all, Ignis could be confessing at this very moment, saying something Ignis-like like-”

\---------------------------

“By Titan’s fists, the electricity’s gone out! Damn it all to hell, just when I wanted to brew you a cup of tea!”

“Don’t worry about it,” a chocobo whimpered, slumped over, heart racing at the speed of light.

Yeah. The Six were getting in a good laugh, all at Prompto Argentum’s expense.

Why couldn’t they just take him already?


	3. Compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale ends and begins on the wings of a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by Sailor Moon and the Kingdom Hearts series.
> 
> Normally I'd have Regis and Luna responsible for a certain type of ending, but only one of them is responsible for the ending/beginning of this adventure.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for being here. :)

He was stupid to think it would work. Stupid to think he had a chance, even a little chance.

It wasn’t meant for him, the beautiful, divine gift called ‘life’. It was his to marvel at and hold for a little while, but it wasn’t meant for him. The way everything slipped away from him proved it. It was only a few seconds ago he was alone with Ignis, on the verge of splitting his soul open with bare hands, but the earth that had been beneath his feet had vanished. Fallen into nothing. Crumbled like paper against flame, just like the rest of the fantasy he had created.

He was stupid to think he had a chance. Stupid to think it would last forever, like a dream meant for a carefree child. It was supposed to last forever, the happiness breathing life into his parched lungs, the relief cleansing the darkness, but the rain discoloring his world created an entirely new state of being. A dimension in which only silence existed, existed only to drive pain through his flesh. Existed only to remind him of the truth he fought to hide for a lifetime.

He ran, unable to believe how stupid he had been. He ran through the rain meant to outlast time, pushing bangs from his eyes, wanting to run until he couldn’t run any more. Wanting to run until there wasn’t anything left. There already wasn’t much of anything left. His host saw to it. So on he ran, bleeding, burned, still burning, every inch of him violated so violently, the Six refused to acknowledge him any longer. He ran, unable to believe how stupid he had been, unable to go back, unable to leave them behind when he wanted them, needed them more than air. They had rescued him, after all. They went after him when they should’ve kept going.

Ignis went after him when he should’ve kept going. Should have forgotten all about him. Should have never even learned his name.

Prompto ran, chest burning as though Ifrit had taken up residence, breathing while infused with electric, violent life. They assured him it was all right, let him know nothing had changed, but everything had changed. They had changed. They had left him behind, changing, growing, marching down the paths laid out before them. Challenges had battered them, torn them apart, but none of them were broken. Not even Ignis.

Ignis. Gods damn it, Ignis.

He ran. Somehow, he ran even harder, wanting to leave the one he had almost melted into so many times, wanting to turn back, wanting to rip every inch of himself open and bare it all to Ignis. A butter knife would’ve done the job, and Prompto would’ve done the job slowly if it would’ve satisfied the Six, if it would’ve kept them from playing any more jokes on him. Speaking of jokes-

The rain. Rain, rain, so much rain, battering him just as the minutes did inside of Ardyn’s. Ripping the remnants of life from his veins, just as Ardyn had torn the life out of him. It wasn’t that big of a problem, though. Sure, it was cold, deathly cold. Harsh. Merciless. But maybe it would all be over soon. Maybe he’d drown in it. Maybe it would swallow him whole, take him far away from the ones he so desperately wanted to go back to, from the ones he wanted to leave behind. Maybe, just maybe it would-

“Prompto! Prompto, by the heavens, stay right where you are!”

Ignis. Cutting through the darkness as a shaft of blinding, piercing light.

Noctis and Gladiolus weren’t anywhere to be found. He was all there was, a solar flare illuminating the night that threatened to be eternal. The storm created by Titan’s wrath had done nothing to dampen Ignis’ aura, the celestial energy that had always drawn Prompto to him like parched souls to water. He was all there was, angry, beautiful, excruciatingly beautiful. Rushing towards him when he should’ve turned back. Never should have gone after him in the first place. “Would you mind explaining yourself?” the one that defied gravity, time and space demanded, voice quiet yet overtaking the electric magnitude of the heavens’ roar.

Even though the eyes that transcended time and space had been closed forever, Prompto felt them pierce his soul.

Ignis clamped his hands onto his friend’s shoulders. “What are you doing out here, in the thick of this storm? Have you gone mad?”

Prompto was breathless, breathtaken by the seasons and wonders in front of him, breathless from the pain, pain, too much pain. Crimson, burning, unholy pain. “Have YOU gone mad? Where are the guys? You should be with Noct or Gladio, Iggy, not with me!” Poison and thunder laced those last words, each one heavy, sorrowful, loud. Bleeding.

Ignis refused to relent, hands still on the photographer’s shoulders, voice and spirit rising over the volley of rain. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t do anything rash! And have you forgotten? Have you forgotten the promise you made me, how much you mean to me?”

“No,” came the hoarse sob, rain spilling onto the earth as a chest split open, finally broken, hurt, tired. Another barrage of blades were driven into whatever was left of him. Ignis remembered, remembered that night as though it had just happened, as though they were an inch apart just a few seconds ago. But it hurt. Hurt too much to hold onto that moment, onto that pocket of time, memories, hope. Hurt too much to think of how close he had been to letting Ignis know everything, of how close he had been to believing in a dream that had never been meant for him. “I haven’t forgotten anything,” he gasped, rain spilling, painting the darkness in silence.

“I just can’t do it any more, Iggy! I can’t look after you anymore! The guys can but I can’t! Not anymore!”

“You have gone completely bonkers! That’s not why I’m here! I’m here to carry you just as you carried me!”

It hurt, the brightness Ignis exuded, slicing through whatever was left of Prompto’s flesh, mind and spirit. “I’m here to return your kindness,” Noctis’ advisor went on, a bit softer but still just as loud, just as powerful. “You led me through nightmares I never believed would end. I’m here to do the same for you. Here to remind you you are not alone.”

“I want to be,” was the fragile whimper. If it was spoken enough, maybe it would come true. Maybe it would stick. Maybe the rain would just keep going and Ignis would just disappear. Go back to where he was meant to be. But as always-

Ignis defied every force in existence.

“I’ll be damned if I let you have your way. You’re coming back with me, Prompto, whether you want to or not!”

“I can’t!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Damn it, Iggy,” came the tearful whimper, soft, frail, just as shaky as the earth beneath them. “You’re supposed to be protecting Noct. Keeping a monster around him won’t put a smile on the higher-ups.”

Ignis opened his mouth to counterattack, but it was at that moment reality struck Prompto like a brick to the face. His voice was soft against the wind and rain, but the emotion behind it was loud enough to alarm the heavens.

“Ignis, how did you get here?”

It didn’t make sense. Nothing was making sense. Ignis shouldn’t have gone after him, shouldn’t have been there. Couldn’t have gotten there all by himself. Sure, he was still magnificence personified, but the darkness was enough to erase light in all degrees. The storm should have had the entire world cast into nothingness. How-

-was Ignis able to move him, shake and uplift him in a few simple words? “I followed you, you half-witted buffoon,” the bladesman answered, as though it should have been perfectly obvious. But that still didn’t make sense. For Ignis to follow him, they needed to be in perfect synchronicity. They needed to be in tune with each other’s steps, heartbeats, thoughts. Energy. They needed to be tied together as one, not two different halves of different worlds. They needed-Ignis needed-

To accept and return everything Prompto was giving him.

Ignis followed him. Went after him. Called out to him. Wanted him to go back. Couldn’t be without him.

Rain. There was too much rain, too much hurt, so much hurt. Just wouldn’t stop. The bleeding, the brokenness, none of it would stop.

“You…you f-f-followed me? What if s-s-something had happened to you?!”

“How could it when you carried me here?!”

“Make some sense, please,” were Prompto’s last words before the weeping began, before everything that was left was torn open, forced open, bared to the heavens for all to see. Ignis replied calmly, warmly, heard above the storm that threatened to swallow all. “Simple, really,” he declared. “Even though you’ve gone bloody barmy, just the mere thought of you endowed me with strength. Gave me the strength I needed to find you. Shiva’s breath, Prompto, if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be standing at all. How is it you think I’m here, speaking to you? Why do you think I’m here when I should be somewhere else?”

He wanted to joke, wanted to say something light and funny, but the words wouldn’t come. Nothing but tears would come. His voice was gone, strength was gone, everything was gone and bleeding all at once. The mask had fallen off and he couldn’t get it back. Couldn’t find it. Wouldn’t ever find it again. “I can’t tell you how many times I have lost my footing,” Ignis went on, forever warm and kind, patient, strange in the wake of devastation that would have killed anyone else. Probably even King Regis, if he hadn’t been taken from them earlier.

“But every time I lose my footing, I’m always able to get right back up. Why? It’s because of you. You keep me going, Prompto. You keep me grounded. You always have. It’s because of you I can be strong. So I am here to return some of that strength.”

“But I-”

“And don’t feed me any bloody mess about ‘what’ you are. I don’t give a damn what you are, only who you are. Besides, what right do I have to pass judgement? A brilliant, incredible young man is far more useful than a crippled member of the Crownsguard!”

Instantly, deeply wounded, even more wounded than he had been in Ardyn’s ‘care’, Prompto reeled back, head spinning, earth beneath his feet returning but still feeling very much like air. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he ordered, sad, horrified. He wouldn’t have it, Ignis treating himself that way. Fervent worshippers of the Six never allowed treason against their holy ones, and he would never allow anyone to treat Ignis so cruelly. Least of all Ignis. It just wasn’t right. How could divinity look at himself in such a dark, monstrous-

“Fascinating, how you’re able to flip flop from being so insanely stupid to being so thoroughly concerned about someone else. One of the many reasons why I need you to stay with me. I’ve got to protect that innocence.”

The arms. There they were again, just as warm and gentle and patient as they were that night. So close. Too close. Holding him too close. “I can never get into that head of yours,” came the gentle, infinitely kind voice. “but I’m taking you back with me. I’ll carry you if I have to, cane be damned. The only way I’ll fail this task is if you kill me.”

Prompto shook his head so hard it should’ve fallen off, feeling himself melt, falling apart in the arms that had been too far away for much too long.

“I’d never hurt you.”

“Then let us be off.”

“Ignis…I wanna go with you, but…b-b-but could you still c-c-carry me? P-p-please?”

And it was in that moment, in that pocket of time, in their corner of the universe, life began anew. Color, sights, sounds and wonders erupted, relieving the earth of the sadness that had fallen. It was in that moment the world knew only peace, warm and safe, drifting off into arms that would never be broken. For they would always be led by the light. Warm, all-consuming, infinite light.

Even in the presence of overwhelming darkness, that light would forever reign.

\------------------------------------

“Then everything’s okay. I don’t remember where he carries me, because the dream always takes me somewhere else, but…he holds me in his arms and it’s great. Everything’s so warm and amazing and…I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but focus on him and how safe I am with him. It’s strange because he lost his sight in that big battle I told you about, but…he carries me every time, like I’m as light as a feather.”

“Fascinating,” Noctis beams at him, shouldering his knapsack, mind set on going to work but heart set on taking care of and cherishing his friend. Together they set off, closing the door to their apartment and setting off into a day overflowing with sunshine. Prompto kept at it as they walked, his voice shrill, alive with panic, excitement, confusion, and all of the colors life had to give. “It’s the same thing every time, bro, but no matter how many times I see it, it’s always so real,” he declared breathlessly, eyes fluttering, face ablaze with emotion. Noctis, as he always did, listened to his friend with rapt attention, silently assuring Prompto he would always have an audience.

“The next thing I see is fire. It’s always fire. A lot of fire and a lot of sadness. Pain. I swear the world’s ending, Noct. I’m trying to find you and Chef Scientia and Coach Gladio but I can’t find any of you guys. I think you went off and sacrificed yourself in battle, so we’d have a chance to survive whatever was going on. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened because even though I tried so hard to find you, I knew you were gone. I knew I’d never see you again.”

The photographer’s spirit turned mournful. “Chef Scientia finds me,” he went on, as though his dream had been outlined on the pages of time, entrusted to him by the ancients. “He always finds me. Even though he can’t see, he always sees me. He finds me and takes my hand. He’s hurt, Noct, hurt pretty badly. I am too. Everything hurts, but…whenever he takes my hand, it all goes away. Everything changes. The fire, the sounds of battle, it all goes away. And he’s all I see.”

“I tell him something. I remind him of my promise. My promise to always look after him, no matter what. To be where he can find me, no matter what. Chef Scientia…Ignis…always squeezes my hand and tells me ‘I love you’. He says ‘I love you, Prompto, and thank you for loving me’. ‘Have no fear. I’ll find you again, just as you always found me’. And I’m not afraid. I’m really, really sad, and there’s just so much pain, but I’m not afraid. I close my eyes, then it ends. It ends and I’m back here, with you and everyone else.”

Prompto clamped his hands onto his roommate’s shoulders, eyes on fire with emotion, memories. “Noct, I know I sound super dee duper crazy, but I can’t let anything of that go! Not when it feels so real, big bro, not when your boss-MY new boss-is the guy in my dreams! Noct, my new boss told me he loved me!”

“Right,” Noctis tilted his head with an affectionate chuckle, eyes shining with sunshine. “In another life.”

“YES! How can I work for him when he loved me and saved me and did all kinds of really important stuff for me back then? By Ramuh’s roar, we DIED together! You believe me, don’t ‘cha Noct?”

“Of course I do,” Prompto’s roommate assured him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with a smile made of gold. Saying otherwise would’ve been worse than committing treason against the Astrals. Besides-

“It’s like me whenever I dream about my old man. I don’t remember him, but at the same time, I do.”

Prompto became radiant with concern. “You dream about your dad?”

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s weird because even though I don’t remember being together here, I remember him in those dreams. I remember him as though we’ve known each other since the dawn of time, or whatever. And whenever he talks to me, I feel the same way you feel whenever you have wet dreams about my boss.”

“Nooooooooct!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sorry. Anyways, it’s the same, the way you feel around Chef Scientia and the way I feel around my dad.”

“What does he say to you?”

“Stuff like ‘it’s all right’. ‘You don’t have to fight any more’. ‘Rest now, my son’.”

“See, see, it’s just like my dreams! You went off and died and your dad-”

Hurt, so much hurt, cut through him, through the day, time and space like an arrow. Noctis gave his friend’s shoulder a tight squeeze, stopping the flow of poisonous hurt. “Dunno what any of it means, but we’re here now,” he said swiftly, warmly, tenderly, exuding the warmth Prompto found infinitely familiar.

“Look. After work, we’ll hang out with Luna. She’ll figure out what’s up.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Lu’s good at figuring out dreams, so chin up, okay? And try not to tell Chef Scientia you love him or anything. At least not until we’ve got this stuff figured out, little brother. I don’t want to lose you to one of his knives.”


End file.
